Putting Us Back Together
by Smackalicious
Summary: He had no idea her pain would become his. McGiva. Post-Somalia. Short WIP.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Putting Us Back Together**  
**Pairing: McGee/Ziva**  
**Rating: K+**  
**Genre: Angst, Drama, Friendship, a bit of Hurt/Comfort, slight Romance**  
**Cat: Het**  
**Spoilers: General spoilers for the beginning of season 7. A different take on the post-Somalia storyline.**  
**Warnings: None.**  
**Summary: He had no idea her pain would become his. Will be posted in about 3 chapters.**  
**Author's Note: Written for megeesgeek for the White Elephant Exchange on NFA based on her second prompt: "Play the moments, pause the memories, stop the pain, and rewind the happiness—Post Somalia reflections. Everyone on the team comes home changed from the Saleem experience. Everyone is trying to find their equilibrium again—in their own ways—which lends itself to letting people fall through the cracks. Tim falls through the cracks. But Ziva is there to catch him when he inevitably falls."**

* * *

**Chapter One**

If he was counting, it had been 2 days, 6 hours and 23 minutes since he ate. Well, ate anything he could keep down, that is. Every time he tried, the images entered his mind and the food came right back up. If there was one thing he was sure of now, it was that Ziva was a lot stronger than he was.

He made his way to his feet on shaky legs, gripping the edge of the vanity in his bathroom as he did so. When he looked in the mirror, he tried to ignore how pale he was, the heavy bags under his eyes, how gaunt his face looked in general. Nobody at work had seemed to notice. That was a good thing. If Tony found out, he'd just laugh and poke fun at him. Gibbs would tell him to suck it up. Abby might fawn over him, but he couldn't have her hanging all over him. Ziva . . . He didn't know how she would react. He never knew what to expect from her.

And yet, all this was because of her.

The ringing of his cell phone jolted him from his thoughts and he started towards his bedroom, but had to pause to let a dizzy spell dissipate. He closed his eyes to wait it out, about 30 seconds, then opened them and continued on his way, hoping it wasn't Gibbs on the phone.

When he picked up the phone, he groaned to himself. Ziva. Maybe that was a good thing?

He answered. "McGee."

"McGee, are you alright? What took you so long to answer?"

Maybe not such a good thing. But he could come up with something. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just, uh, I was . . . in the bathroom." That much wasn't a lie.

"Oh." He could imagine the expression on Ziva's face, a cross between amusement and embarrassment. "Well, if you are finished. . ."

"Very much finished."

"We have a case. Tony and Gibbs are en route to the scene. I can pick you up if you need me to. . ."

"No, that's fine. I'll be there. What's the address?"

Ziva rattled off a street number somewhere in Georgetown and he scribbled it down on the back of an envelope, knowing he'd never remember otherwise, not with the thoughts that had been running through his head lately.

He just hoped he could make it to the crime scene without throwing up again.

McGee parked next to Ziva's car and stepped out, glad he'd made it without vomiting again, though he supposed that was easy when there wasn't anything left in his stomach.

"McGee!"

He looked over at the sound of Ziva's voice, and saw her eyes narrow in concern as she took in his appearance and walked closer. He shook his head. "I'm fine, Ziva."

"You do not look fine, McGee. Have you been sleeping?" She raised a hand to his forehead, resting the back of it against his skin. "You do not feel warm."

"I don't have a fever, Ziva." She continued to look worried, so he gave in. A bit. "I think I maybe caught a stomach bug or something. I . . . haven't been able to keep anything down."

"Well, then you should go home and get some rest!" Ziva said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "If Gibbs sees you, he will probably send you home, anyway." She wrapped an arm around his back and guided him to the crime scene, an action McGee was secretly thankful for, as he wasn't sure he would've made it on his own.

Tony looked up as they approached, the gleeful expression at the duo being late changing to a grimace as he took in McGee's appearance. "Hey, McTardy, wake up on the wrong side of the toilet this morning? You don't look so hot."

McGee rolled his eyes. "I already told Ziva I'm fine."

"You told me you think you have a stomach bug," Ziva corrected, still standing protectively beside him. "That does not sound fine to me."

Tony grumbled to himself. "Just don't go adding your breakfast to the crime scene. Don't think the boss would appreciate that."

McGee glared at him. "Thanks for your concern, Dinozzo."

Tony stood up from where he'd been photographing the scene. "Hey, man, I'm serious. You look like you're gonna pass out any minute. And you've got Ziva all worried and you know what that means." He made a face and Ziva sent him a warning glare.

McGee sighed. "Tony, I. . ."

"Hey!" Gibbs' voice joined the conversation, though he didn't sound half as concerned as Tony or Ziva. He stood about 50 feet away from them, his notepad in his hand. "Any of you going to join me in doing some work today?"

"McGee's feeling a little McBarfy today, Boss," Tony yelled back to him, flinching at the whack to the arm McGee gave him.

Gibbs walked over, looking less than amused, but his expression changed as he caught sight of McGee. "You look like hell, Tim."

McGee stood up straighter. "Nothing I can't handle, Boss."

"Yeah, well, I don't need you compromising the crime scene. Go home."

He sighed, while Ziva gave him a smug look, happy she had succeeded in getting him to go back home. He turned to leave, but Gibbs spoke again, making him turn back.

"I don't want to see you back at work until you're feeling better. And don't think I won't hold you to that."

"Yes, Boss."

"Do you need a ride, McGee?" Ziva spoke from next to him.

"Uh, no, I'll be fine. Thanks, Ziva." He smiled at her, showing his appreciation for her concern, hoping that would ease her mind and get her to back off. Her reaction surprised him. He thought she might be a bit concerned, but she seemed genuinely worried about him.

He started back to his car, but he hadn't gone more than a few yards before his vision blurred and he found himself stumbling and falling to his knees. He braced himself as he blinked and waited for his vision to go back to normal, hearing Ziva call his name. She was at his side in an instant, rubbing a hand across his back, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to convince her he was fine now.

"I am driving you home," she said, her tone telling him not to argue with her.

"What about my car?" Ziva was already guiding him to her car, not even bothering to check with Gibbs, and she shook her head.

"Tony can drive it back to your place later. . ."

"Alright!" came Tony's voice from behind them, and McGee closed his eyes and groaned to himself.

Ziva kept quiet until they reached her car, where she opened the passenger door and watched McGee slip inside before heading to the driver's side and getting in herself. As they put on their seatbelts, Ziva said, "I do not know how you even managed to drive here without killing yourself."

"I just got a little dizzy," McGee insisted. "I'm fine when I'm sitting down."

Ziva gave the key a rough twist in the ignition and pulled out, too upset to say anything else, and McGee could tell, but he wasn't in the mood to argue, and he felt too tired to even say much of anything, so he simply rested his head against the window and closed his eyes.

Back at the crime scene, Tony glanced up at Gibbs, who had returned to work almost immediately after Ziva and McGee had left. "Ziva's acting pretty Mama Bear over McGoo," he said, trying to sound casual. "Whaddaya suppose that means?"

"That she cares," Gibbs said, writing something down and looking off into the distance. "And she needs a distraction."

"Distraction?" Tony asked.

Gibbs was silent for a moment, then said, "Get back to work, DiNozzo."

Tony nodded. "On it, Boss."

Ziva waited until they were well onto the freeway before looking over at McGee. Her anger dissipated when she saw that he appeared to be asleep. She wondered how long he'd been sick, and why he'd kept it from them. She supposed it was just like him to do that, though, especially considering the past few weeks.

She turned her attention back to her driving as she saw their exit come up. Something told her there was more to this than a simple illness, and she was determined to find out what, even if she wasn't sure she was ready to hear it.

His apartment building came into view sooner than she had expected, though with the way she drove, she shouldn't have been surprised. She pulled over and parked, waiting to see if McGee would wake up on his own.

He opened his eyes after a few moments and glanced over to find Ziva smiling at him. "Welcome back," she said, holding his gaze for a few moments before turning her attention to her seatbelt, unbuckling herself and reaching for the door.

McGee saw the motion and shook his head, even though she was facing away from him. "Ziva, you don't have to walk me up. I'm feeling much better."

She paused, then slowly turned to face him. "I could always show up in the middle of the night, McGee. I do know how to pick a lock. . ."

He sighed, too tired to even act scared by her comment. "Okay, you can come up."

Ziva looked pleased with herself and exited the car, moving quickly around to the passenger side to help McGee out, though he did appear to be feeling somewhat better. She waited for him to enter the building and followed behind, both because it was his apartment and because she wanted to keep an eye on him.

They made it to his apartment without incident, and as he unlocked the door and let them inside, McGee said, "I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this, Ziva. It's not like I haven't been sick before."

Ziva waited a bit before answering, wondering if she should tip her hand as far as wondering if there was something aside from just a simple stomach bug that was bothering him, and ended up saying, "I simply am concerned about your well-being, McGee. This bug, or whatever it is that ails you, seems to have hit you rather hard. What happened at the crime scene earlier could have happened in the field, while pursuing a suspect. It is dangerous."

He dipped his head at her words. "Yeah, I guess you have a point. I just didn't want to bother you with it."

Ziva narrowed her eyes at his words. Did he mean her specifically, or the team as a whole? Either way, she didn't have time to deal with it right now, as Gibbs surely expected her back at the crime scene. "I wish you would have said something," was what she settled for, her voice soft. "Hopefully you will if something like this comes up again."

He nodded, looking her in the eye again. "I will, Ziva. I promise. Thank you."

She smiled. "You should be in bed." She moved her hands to his back to turn him around, pushing him toward his bedroom.

"I can walk by myself, you know," McGee said, but couldn't help but smile at the action.

"Yes, we know how well that worked out earlier," Ziva said, and McGee rolled his eyes. They reached his bed and Ziva pulled back the covers, earning another eye roll from McGee.

He climbed in, knowing she wouldn't leave until he did, and said, "I suppose you're going to tuck me in, too, huh?"

Ziva's eyes twinkled. "Perhaps." She waited for him to settle in, then pulled the covers up and smoothed them around him, earning a chuckle from him. She grinned. "Now you try to get some rest and I will be back later with something that will make you feel better."

He threw his head back against his pillow. "You don't have to treat me like a little kid, Ziva. All this is . . . nice, don't get me wrong, but you don't have to baby me."

She continued to run her hands over the comforter and spoke, her words sounding as though he hadn't said anything at all. "I will let myself in, so do not worry about getting up to greet me." She leaned over him then, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Sleep well, Timothy."

She stood up and walked to the door of his bedroom, and McGee watched her walk away, a million things he wanted to say running through his mind, but he remained silent. Maybe when she came back later, he'd tell her everything. Maybe.

Ziva let herself out, locking the door on the way. She couldn't help but feel uneasy about everything that had happened already this morning. She knew there was more to the situation than McGee had told her, but until he felt comfortable telling her what, she would have to content herself with checking on him when she could. Maybe tonight would be a different story. . .


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Ziva arrived back at the crime scene to find Tony and Gibbs finishing up with the processing. She hurried over, calling out, "I am back. Sorry that took so long. I wanted to make sure McGee would get some rest before I left."

Tony looked over to her with a grin. "Did you tuck him in and everything?" He chuckled to himself, while Ziva gave him a pointed look.

"As a matter of fact, I did," she said, trying not to smirk at the way Tony's face fell.

"Oh," he muttered, clearly not expecting that, and shoved an evidence bag at her. "Check in with Gibbs."

Ziva stared at him for a few more moments before Tony looked away, then walked over to where Gibbs stood at his car. "Do we have a witness, Gibbs?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Not yet." He turned to face her. "McGee okay?"

She nodded. "He seemed to be feeling a bit better. I will check on him again tonight."

"Good." He opened his car door. "We're done here. Get that back to NCIS." He got in the car and had it started before she could respond, leaving Tony running to get in before Gibbs took off.

Ziva looked down at the bag in her hand. The return to a routine at NCIS was nice, but she still doubted her place on the team. She would just have to prove she wanted to be here, and part of that was following orders, but more than that, she needed to show she cared, show her appreciation and gratitude for what they had gone through to save her. If she could return the favor, she would do it immediately.

She walked back to her car, now even more determined to get McGee to talk to her.

* * *

The minutes felt like hours and the hours felt like days as Ziva waited for the day to end. Gibbs felt the tension coming off her in waves and sighed to himself as he watched her check the time once again. She didn't have to admit that she was worried about McGee; they'd seen that earlier at the crime scene.

Gibbs lifted his head and spoke. "Go home."

Ziva's head snapped toward him in surprise. "Go home?" she repeated.

Gibbs fought not to roll his eyes. "You gonna argue with me, David?"

Ziva almost sputtered, a sign that she was most definitely preoccupied with other thoughts. "No, of course not, Gibbs. Thank you." She quickly shut down her computer and grabbed her backpack, eager to get out of there.

Just as she had stood from her desk and was headed for the elevator, Gibbs called her name. "Ziva." She looked back at him, and the expression on her face – a mix of worry, hope, and something else Gibbs didn't know how to put a name to – made him reconsider what he was going to say. He nodded. "Good luck."

She didn't respond with words, just a slight smile as she hurried to the elevator, and Gibbs shook his head to himself. He knew he should have been more aware of whatever was going on with McGee, and he should really be the one checking on him, as his direct supervisor, but his gut told him Ziva was the one who needed to be there tonight.

He hoped tonight would be revealing for the both of them.

* * *

Ziva paused at McGee's door, debating whether to knock or just let herself in as she had told him she would earlier. She settled for knocking, and when she didn't hear any sign of a response from inside, pulled out the set of keys she had taken with her that morning. That was part of the reason for her uneasiness throughout the day, was the worry that McGee would wake up and want to leave, but find his keys missing, and she'd receive an angry phone call from him. That hadn't happened, but it didn't make her feel any less guilty about what she'd done.

She opened the door and poked her head inside before walking in and closing the door softly behind her, not wanting to startle McGee if he suddenly woke. Her first stop was the kitchen, to drop off the pot of chicken soup she had made. Just as she was finding a spot in the very empty refrigerator – which made her concern grow; how long was it that he hadn't been eating? – she heard a noise coming from McGee's bedroom. It sounded like groaning, and she closed the refrigerator door and headed towards his room, wanting to check on him in case he was up and feeling ill again.

She had only taken a few steps when he began to yell.

"No! No! Don't! Let go of her! Don't hurt her!"

Ziva ran the rest of the way to his bedroom, cautious of what she may find within. As she reached the door, she paused a moment, then quickly opened it, ready to confront whatever she saw.

She let out a deep breath when she saw that McGee was still asleep, and in the throes of a nightmare. He started whimpering and Ziva made her way to his bed, unsure of exactly what she should do, but knowing she had to wake him.

"McGee." She shook him gently. "McGee! It is Ziva. Wake up." She continued to rock him back and forth, hoping he would come to.

"Ziva. . ."

"Yes, it's me," she said, relieved that he seemed to be coming to. "You're dreaming. It's just a dream."

"No, no, no, no, no. . ." He started rolling his head back and forth on his pillow, and Ziva realized he was still asleep, her concern growing. "Don't hurt her! Ziva!"

Ziva suddenly felt nauseous as she figured out that she was the subject of his nightmare, and tried in earnest to wake him, shaking him a bit harder. "McGee! Wake up! I am right here and I am okay!"

He struggled against her for a few moments, then his eyes flew open and he took a few gasping breaths before he focused in on her. "Ziva? You're okay?"

Ziva nodded, feeling a bit startled herself at his sudden waking. "Yes. Yes, you were just having a nightmare, McGee. I. . ."

McGee suddenly threw his arms around her, shocking her further, and she awkwardly patted his back, not sure what to do. When she realized he was crying, her worry grew even more, and she pulled back slightly, wanting to look at him.

"McGee, look at me," she said, doing her best to remain calm. She waited until he made eye contact, the expression on his face breaking her heart. "I am okay. I promise. It was just a dream."

He shook his head, and Ziva balled a hand into a fist out of frustration. She was just about to assure him again when he spoke. "Ever since. . . Ever since we got back, it's all I can think about. I try to sleep, and I can't, because all I can think is what, what they did. It's just . . . too much." He wiped at his face with the back of a hand, though the tears kept coming. He didn't even seem embarrassed about it, just relieved to get it out.

Ziva let his words sink in, and when she grasped what he was saying, her mouth fell open. "McGee . . . You do not have a stomach bug, do you?" She already knew the answer to the question, had suspected it earlier, but needed the confirmation. He shook his head. "Are these . . . nightmares making you sick?"

He closed his eyes, then nodded. "I just keep imagining . . . what they did . . . to you. I'm sorry, Ziva." He opened his eyes and looked at her and she just stared back at him. Neither one of them seemed to know what to say or do next.

After a few moments, though, Ziva composed herself and reached out to take McGee's hand. She stared at his fingers for a moment before speaking. "I am okay, McGee. I have you all to thank for that. What happened . . . will never happen again."

"Ziva. . ." She looked up at his use of her name. "What did they do to you?" His voice was barely audible, and he watched as the expression in her eyes changed. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't ask, but I just. . . I want to help. I don't know if I can, but if there's something I can do. . ."

Ziva shook her head. "What you have already done is more than enough . . . Tim. As far as what happened, what they did to me. . . I know what you are thinking." She paused and met his eyes, and there was a moment of complete silence before she continued, her voice quiet. "They did not rape me." The relief McGee felt was obvious to her as she watched his shoulders relax for the first time since he'd woke. "I think they were more focused on me being a source of information than a sex object. They did beat me, all of the normal torture techniques, but I think. . ." She gave a sad smile, and looked up to meet McGee's gaze again. "I am an Israeli Jew. They did not want to risk contamination."

Silence fell between them again as McGee processed her words, but then he squeezed her hand and said, "Can I give you a hug? It won't be like earlier." He cracked a smile, and it made Ziva laugh.

She nodded. "That would be nice. I think I have been in need of a hug."

McGee just smiled and held his arms open, allowing her to make the first move. She came closer, hesitant at first, but as soon as his arms encircled her, Ziva tightened her grip on him. Neither of them said anything, just held each other and allowed the gravity of the night's events to take hold. McGee moved his hands up and down her back to comfort her, and that simple action seemed to trigger something within Ziva, causing her to move even closer, until she was basically sitting on his lap, and she pressed her face into his neck, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"It's okay, Ziva. It's okay. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I may not be what you need, but I would do anything for you." His words seemed more a gush of words, his thoughts spoken aloud, and Ziva wasn't even sure if he realized what he'd said. The words permeated her emotions, though, and she pulled back to look at him, not sure she had heard him right.

"What are you saying, McGee?" she asked. His words scared her, because she wasn't sure she was emotionally ready for what she thought he was suggesting.

"I. . ." He stared at her, like he was just hearing his words himself, then shook his head. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. That's not what you needed right now."

"McGee, if there is something you wish to tell me, then tell me." Even as she said the words, Ziva wondered what she was doing. She wasn't ready for a relationship, especially not one with a co-worker and very good friend.

Or was this her brain telling her otherwise?

McGee hesitated, then spoke. "When Gibbs said you were dead, I refused to believe it. I think everyone else had resigned themselves to it, or were at least going through the motions of grieving, but I couldn't. I could not fathom that you were gone. There was so much I hadn't told you, so much I could have done that I didn't."

Ziva was shaking her head as he spoke. "You couldn't have stopped what happened," she whispered, and felt his hands slide up her back, reminding her that she hadn't entirely left his embrace . . . and that didn't bother her in the slightest, and actually made her feel more secure.

"I know. I know there wasn't anything I could have done to change what did happen, but I feel like now . . . I have a second chance to do things right. Maybe not even to do things right, but just to take the chance I've been given." He paused. "All I know is that even the idea of those . . . animals violating you was too much for me to stand."

"Why didn't you say something?" Ziva whispered. "Were you that afraid of what I might think?"

He shook his head. "I didn't want to bother you with it. I mean," he gave a sad laugh, "you were tortured for months, and here I was, unable to stomach a mental picture of what could have happened. I wanted to give you your space, and the time you needed to heal."

Ziva gazed at him, finally understanding his motivations, then gave him a soft smile. "Perhaps all I needed was someone to talk to."

McGee's face lit up and he gathered her close to him again. "If that's what you want, I can be that person," he said.

Ziva returned the hug and let out a soft sigh. She felt very lucky sometimes, and tonight was one of those times. And it felt good to be held by someone she knew cared about her. She smiled to herself as she thought how she could get used to it, and her smile widened into a grin as she heard McGee's stomach growl.

"Somebody is hungry," she laughed, and pulled away, blushing a bit as she realized she was still on his lap. "Sorry. You should have told me to move."

He shrugged. "I didn't mind. And, uh, yeah, it's been awhile since I've eaten."

Ziva narrowed her eyes at him. "How long is awhile?"

He lowered his head and scratched the back of it. "A couple . . . days. I'd try eating and it would just. . ." He made a motion with his hand, then glanced up at Ziva, who stood and held out her hand. He took it and allowed her to pull him out of bed and lead him wherever she was going. "Ziva, what. . ."

"It is a good thing I thought to make you some food, because I figured you were not taking proper care of yourself," she said, returning to the protective role she had taken on earlier that day. "And when I put it in the refrigerator, I saw I was right." She dropped McGee's hand when they reached the kitchen counter and she continued to the refrigerator, making McGee smile at how comfortable she seemed in his kitchen.

She took the pot of soup out of the refrigerator and put it on the stove, fiddling around with the knobs, then instinctively finding a spoon and a ladle in a nearby drawer to stir and serve the soup. After she was satisfied that everything was situated, she turned back to McGee, who was sitting at the counter and grinning at her.

"What?" she asked, though she couldn't keep the smile off her face.

"Nothing, just. . . You knew where everything was. Unless you snoop around in my kitchen every time you come over." He raised an eyebrow at her and Ziva gave a genuine laugh.

"While I do love to cook, I was not 'snooping around,' as you say. It just seemed," she shrugged, "obvious where you would keep your utensils."

McGee nodded slowly. "Uh-huh. Sure. Keep telling yourself that." He watched her stir the soup, then said, "I'm glad you're here, Ziva."

"You should be," Ziva responded without looking up. "I do not know what you even eat when you are not at work."

McGee frowned. "Well, uh, I usually have more food around, but the past few weeks have. . ." He cleared his throat, leaving the sentence unfinished, and he watched Ziva's stirring slow, obvious that she was thinking back on everything that had happened recently. As he watched her, a sudden thought crept up on him and he found himself asking, "So how'd you get back in here, anyway? Pick the lock?"

The stirring stopped altogether then and Ziva turned around, walking back to the counter and bracing her hands against the edge. She leaned in a bit and said, "I took your keys."

McGee's face went through a range of emotions in just a few seconds – surprise, anger, amusement – but the reigning expression was one of incredulity. "What?"

"I know how it sounds," Ziva said, holding up a hand, "but it was for your benefit. I needed a way to get back in – without resorting to picking locks – and I did not want you to get up and drive, not in the condition you were in this morning. I worried all day that you would wake up and find your keys missing and realize what I must have done and call me with," she motioned at him, "_that _reaction, and I almost didn't tell you at all, but then you asked and. . ."

"Ziva."

"Well, I certainly could not _lie _once you asked me about it," she continued, ignoring his saying her name. "I would have just felt worse about it, and if the truth did come out, you would be even angrier because I did not tell you the truth in the first place. . ."

"Ziva."

"What?!"

He narrowed his eyes and pointed behind her. "I was just gonna say, you might want to check on the soup. Looks like it's ready."

Ziva turned to look at the pot of soup on the stove, which was letting off a lot of steam, then closed her eyes before turning back to him. "I thought you were going to be upset," she said, then opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Well, I wasn't exactly happy when you said you stole my keys," he responded. "But then I saw how worried you were about how I would react and," he shrugged, and his mouth quirked up on one side, "I couldn't be mad at you. Not that I can stay mad at you for long, anyway."

Ziva smiled at that and reached over to ruffle his hair. "I do not deserve to have a friend like you," she said, holding his gaze for only a moment before turning around to tend to the soup.

McGee didn't say anything, though he was thinking the same thing. She was wonderful, and all this attention she was giving him. . . When he felt like he was being a coward, like he couldn't handle what had happened to her. The thought made him feel faint again, and he lowered his head to the counter.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been like that when he felt Ziva's hand on his back. "McGee? Tim? Are you alright?"

He lifted his head slightly and turned it to look at her. She was trying not to look worried and failing. He sat up again and gave her a crooked smile. "Yeah, I'm good. I just. . ." He let out a deep breath. "I'm really glad you're here." Ziva smiled and made to move back to the stove, but he reached out to touch her, stopping her. "I don't just mean here, in my apartment, Ziva. I mean. . ." He waved his hand around, trying to finds the words he needed. "I really am just glad you're alive."

He waited for her response and saw her eyes start to well up with tears. Before he could process that she was going to cry in front of him for a second time that night, she had her arms around him. He returned the hug, letting out a deep breath. Neither of them were particularly demonstrative people, but he felt like he could hold her all night, and something told him that this was what she needed, what they both needed.

But realistically, he knew he really couldn't hold her all night. Mainly because he still hadn't eaten anything yet, and his stomach took that moment to remind him of that again.

Ziva pulled back quickly, looking flustered. "Oh, God, you need to eat something." She hurried back to the stove before he could stop her again, this time ladling some soup into two bowls and grabbing two spoons from a nearby drawer. She stuck a spoon in each bowl, then carried McGee's bowl over to him, waiting for him to start eating before retrieving her own bowl.

She watched as he carefully sipped a spoonful of the soup and let out a moan of satisfaction. "Can I just hire you as my live-in chef?" he asked, and Ziva laughed, returning to grab her bowl.

As she walked back around McGee, she said in a low voice, "Well, that depends. How do you plan on paying me?" She winked and took the seat next to him, enjoying the way he shook his head and the slight blush that colored his cheeks.

They fell into a comfortable silence then as they ate, McGee finishing his bowl quickly, earning a surprised look from Ziva. He gave her a sheepish smile. "Did I mention I haven't eaten much lately?"

She tsked at him and stood, taking his bowl with her as she returned to the stove, McGee protesting behind her. "Ziva, you don't have to wait on me."

"You did say it has been awhile since you have eaten, and one bowl of soup is not going to regain all your strength," she countered, turning around and placing the once again full bowl before him. "Would you like some bread or something else with it?"

He shook his head. "No, no, this is . . . more than enough, Ziva. I should be good once I have some food back in my stomach."

Ziva nodded. "Good. I do feel responsible. . ."

McGee immediately grabbed her hand and interrupted her. "No. This is _not _your fault. I can't control what my mind does. . ."

"Precisely," Ziva interrupted him this time. "So you should stop feeling guilty about it. And as long as I am here, I may as well help. We all need someone to take care of us sometimes."

"Okay," McGee agreed after a moment. "But you have to let me return the favor."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "It is not a _favor_, but I cannot pass up that offer." She grinned at him and looked down, having forgotten he was still holding her hand. Her stomach flipped a little at the reminder and she tried not to move. It was selfish of her, and possibly stupid, but just that little contact. . .

McGee caught her looking at their hands and hesitantly removed his hand from hers, thinking she was uncomfortable. She looked back to him then, and he gave her a quiet smile. "Thanks again for the soup," he said to fill the silence, and turned his attention back to his bowl.

Ziva pushed herself away from the counter, returning to her seat. She wanted to say something, but nothing felt right. Now that she knew the reason for McGee's illness, the air between them felt heavy. She was so used to things being easy between them, comfortable, but now everything felt charged with meaning. Like that hug, and him holding her hand. He said he would do anything for her. It wasn't as though she didn't know that already, but to have him say it, and be so earnest about it? That changed things.

"You lose your appetite?" McGee's voice brought her from her thoughts, and Ziva cursed internally as she realized she had let her mind distract her from eating, exactly what she hadn't wanted to do.

She looked up and smiled at him. "No, I was just . . . thinking. It's been a very, um, revealing day." She tucked some hair behind her ear and turned back to her bowl. The soup was getting cold, though, so she ended up just stirring it instead of eating it.

"Hey, at least there shouldn't be any more surprises, right?" McGee joked, but Ziva didn't respond to the comment.

Instead, it was as if she was suddenly acting beyond her own control, as she released the spoon and it circled the bowl a few times before coming to a stop, and after staring down at her bowl for another second, looked up and turned to McGee . . . and grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

He was shocked at first, understandable given the situation, but Ziva was insistent, and he slowly gave in to the kiss, moving his hands to grasp her waist as he kissed her back. The kiss felt good, really good, and Ziva moved closer, ready to get on his lap, when McGee pulled away.

"Whoa, Ziva," he breathed, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened, and his words seemed to shock Ziva out of whatever had overtaken her.

She backed away from him, releasing his face and sliding out of the grip his still held on her waist, and she looked around, as if something in his apartment could explain why she'd done what she did. When she couldn't find the answers she needed in his kitchen, she looked back to him, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. . ." She pulled away, ready to get out of there, but McGee tried to talk to her.

"Ziva, no, there's nothing you should feel sorry about," he assured her, watching as she turned in a circle, as if trying to figure out what she needed to do before she left. "I dumped a lot on you tonight. That would make anyone feel like they had to. . ." He made a motion with his hand, meaning the kiss, and Ziva turned back to him.

"It was not a pity kiss, McGee," she said, sounding almost offended by the idea. "I . . . let my emotions take over, when we were both vulnerable, and I . . . should have waited." Her voice had dropped, and McGee almost didn't recognize the Ziva that stood before him, she was so timid.

It took a few moments for him to process her words, but when he did, he reached out for her hand, so she wouldn't take off. "You . . . want to pursue this?"

Ziva straightened, looking more like the Ziva he was used to. "Do you?"

He nodded, his mouth feeling dry. "Yeah, I do. I just thought. . ."

Ziva shook her head vehemently. "I do not want to hear any of that, 'I don't deserve you,' crap, Timothy." His eyes widened at her use of his first name, but he didn't say anything, just waited for her to continue. He wasn't about to interrupt her now. "I know you care about me and would not do anything to hurt me and that," she shook her head slightly, "I would not give up for anything. Perhaps I have realized it is not so bad to let people in." She smiled at him.

"It isn't, Ziva," he insisted, forcing her to really look him in the eye. He squeezed her hand and she glanced down at the action, then back up at him. "Nothing has to change right now, you know. But I'm here if or when you want it to."

Ziva contemplated his words, then quietly said, "I can't ask you to put your life on hold for me."

He laughed softly. "It's not like I've been doing a whole lot of dating, Ziva. Besides, I don't want to complicate things any more than they already are. I don't know what I'm feeling, honestly. This could all end up being nothing. . ." He looked down, not wanting to look at her right then.

Ziva swallowed, feeling defensive. "Or it could end up being something." McGee looked back up at her, locking eyes with her before she continued. "I should be the one talking you out of this, really. You have seen what happens when people get close to me." He opened his mouth to protest and she held up a hand, signaling she wasn't finished. "But I cannot deny you a chance at possible happiness." She gave him a slight smile and he just stared at her, trying to make sense of her words.

"So it doesn't matter how you feel?" is what he ended up saying, and the bitterness in his tone threw Ziva for a loop.

"What?" was all she could manage, and she suddenly felt like she had made a mistake.

"I'm not interested in a one-sided relationship. I would rather be alone than be with someone who doesn't want to be with me."

Ziva continued to stare at him in shock. "That's not what I meant. . ."

"Look, I get it." He sounded angrier than she'd ever seen him be with her before, and she started to bristle at his behavior. "You don't have the best past, and a lot of bad stuff has happened to you and to the people around you. But you know what? Bad stuff will always happen. You may as well take a chance and be happy, rather than watch everyone around you being happy instead." He put his hands on his hips and waited for her to respond.

Ziva did the only thing that made sense to her. She kissed him. Again.

This time the kiss was furious, as both were essentially ready for a yelling match, and they both fought for dominance, throwing their arms around each other and kissing for a while before they both seemed to come to the same conclusion and slowly pulled away from each other, breathing heavily.

Ziva rested her head against his chest, her frustration coming out when she spoke. "I need to stop this. I cannot simply kiss you whenever you say something nice."

McGee raised his eyebrows. "Sounds pretty good to me," he muttered, and Ziva lifted her head to glare at him, but could not keep the smile from her eyes. "And who said I was being nice?"

Ziva smiled and patted his cheek. "You could not be mean if you tried."

He sighed. "Doesn't mean I don't mean what I said. You seem more concerned about other people being happy than about being happy yourself."

Ziva gave him a pointed look. "Look who's talking! This from someone who held a . . . a light for someone for years and now has decided to move on only to say you will wait if necessary! What do you want?" Her gaze turned demanding, but the emotion shone through.

McGee frowned at her for a few moments, then his face fell. "I want to be happy. And I want you to be happy, too. I just ask myself, why didn't anybody notice? Why didn't anyone care enough?"

Ziva just stared at him, trying to make sense of his words. "What are you talking about? Notice what, McGee?"

He gazed back at her, the urge to kiss her overwhelming, but he couldn't give in. This was more important than that. "That . . . I was sick. That something wasn't right. I know it's not fair, especially to you, and I really didn't even _want _anybody to notice, but I kinda thought someone would."

Ziva looked at him for a moment, then turned her eyes toward the floor. "I noticed," she said after a minute, sounding somber.

McGee rolled his eyes. "Yeah, this morning, when I almost passed out at the crime scene."

She shook her head. "I knew you were . . . different the past couple of weeks. I did not want to pry, though, so I said nothing. Clearly, I should have."

"Or maybe not." She gave him a disappointed look and he shrugged. "If you had said something, we wouldn't be here tonight. And I probably – no, I definitely know I wouldn't have said anything to you about how I felt." He sighed and sat down again, rubbing his forehead. "I don't know what to do, Ziva."

Ziva clasped her hands in front of her and swiveled to face him. "We do not have to do anything right now. There is no rush. I have no plans of going anywhere, and I do not think you do, either, unless there is something I don't know about."

He looked up at her, his expression saying, Are you kidding me? "Won't it be weird, though? Not to mention there's Gibbs to think about. And Tony."

A beat of awkwardness passed at the mention of their teammate, but Ziva recovered quickly. "I think . . . we should think about ourselves for once. After all, they are not only our co-workers, but our friends, and if we are happy, I think they will be happy for us." McGee still looked a bit doubtful, so she continued. "Perhaps we should keep things quiet until we know for sure where this is going. There is no need to bring everyone else into it when we do not even know ourselves what will happen."

He thought about her words and then nodded. "Yeah, you're right. But how do we know when to tell anyone, if it comes to that point?"

Ziva stepped closer to him and rested her hands on his knees. "You're thinking too much. Do not worry about it." She glanced up at the clock on McGee's microwave. "It is getting late. You should get some sleep."

He made a face. "I slept all day," he whined.

Ziva got a sneaky look on her face. "I could always tuck you in again. Perhaps read you a bedtime story?"

McGee rolled his eyes. "I think I'll pass on the bedtime story."

Ziva grinned. "But you still want me to tuck you in?"

He gave her an innocent look. "You want to make sure I get to my bed safely, right?"

It was Ziva's turn to roll her eyes as she took his hand and pulled him up, leading the way to his bedroom. "Just for tonight," she said. "Tomorrow you go back to taking care of yourself."

"Somehow I doubt that," McGee muttered, and Ziva stopped, dropping his hand.

"Okay then, have a good night," she said, and turned to walk away, but McGee grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him, laughing.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," he said. "I really do appreciate everything you've done for me today. I still feel bad that I ruined your night."

"I would hardly call tonight a bad night," Ziva said. "I did find out that you are a good kisser, after all." McGee couldn't keep from blushing and Ziva bit her lip, then pushed him towards his bed. "Okay. Bedtime." He got in bed and got situated, then held his arms open as if to say he was ready to be tucked in. Ziva giggled a little and drew the cover up around him, patting it.

He looked up at her, holding her gaze as she leaned over him. "Thank you again, Ziva. I'm feeling a lot better now."

"No more nightmares for you," she said softly, and the look on her face made McGee wonder if she had similar problems.

"You know," he said, trying to sound casual, "I always have my phone on if you need someone to talk to, even if it's in the middle of the night."

She tilted her head at him, seeing through his comment, and said, "I have not had nightmares for some time. . ." McGee frowned at the insinuation that she'd had nightmares at all, so she continued, to ease his worries. "But I will keep your offer in mind."

He nodded and they both fell silent then, but held each other's gaze, both seeming to want to do the same thing, but unsure if they should. Finally, Ziva made a decision for them and closed the distance between them, kissing him . . . on the cheek. Immediately, she felt like a coward, but she was still afraid to get too involved, though she knew that she was too far in already.

"I will clean up in the kitchen and be out of here shortly," she said. She paused, then smiled and whispered, "Good night."

She was already to the door of his bedroom before she heard him respond with a quiet, "Night, Ziva."

Ziva returned to the kitchen, putting the lid back on the pot of soup and returning it to the refrigerator. She knew McGee would be surprised to find it there, but she _had _made the soup for him, and while she figured he would start eating normally again now that the source of his . . . illness seemed to be gone, she still worried about him. It was impossible not to, not only because he was her friend – a term that didn't feel like enough, given what had happened here tonight – but because he was just as independent as she was, and while she knew he could take care of himself, she also knew there were times where she needed someone to worry about her, and she was sure he felt the same. She did care about him, a lot, and while the prospect of deepening their relationship scared her, because she didn't want to lose him, she also felt more alive than she had in months.

She closed the refrigerator door and wandered back through the apartment, intending to leave, but then something by his typewriter caught her eye. She walked over and found herself letting out a soft breath at what she saw.

A photo. Of her.

She was sitting at her desk, working, and it looked like it was fairly recent. She wasn't sure why he'd taken it, or how he'd managed without her noticing. She was usually pretty aware of people watching her. She flipped the photo over to see if there was any further explanation on the back, and the words on the back brought tears to her eyes.

"_Never take for granted the good things in your life."_

Ziva felt overwhelmed with emotion at the sentiment, and put the photo back in its spot. It felt like she'd been meant to see it, even though she knew that was likely not the case. She glanced back at McGee's bedroom, wanting even more to barge back in there and kiss him the way she'd wanted to earlier, but she resisted the temptation and instead walked to the door, turning back briefly to smile at McGee's bedroom door before leaving.

* * *

The next morning, McGee arrived at work early, because he wanted to talk to Gibbs about what had been going on, and also because he wanted a chance to see and talk to Ziva right away. He was relieved to see that Tony hadn't arrived yet, though that wasn't too much of a surprise. As he rounded the corner from the elevator, he saw Gibbs sitting at his desk, but Ziva was nowhere to be seen. He frowned a little at that, but figured she'd show up soon enough.

"Morning, Boss," he said, his words casual, though he radiated nervousness.

Gibbs looked up at him. "You feeling better, Tim?"

McGee nodded. "Yeah, much. Ziva came over last night. . ." He trailed off and felt himself blushing at what all had happened, and Gibbs raised an eyebrow at him, but just nodded.

"You two are good for each other," Gibbs said, and McGee forced himself to blink, surprised at his words.

"What?" he finally managed to say, and he watched Gibbs try to hide a smirk.

"She needs someone who'll be there for her, but gives her the space she needs, and you need someone to remind you you're important." The words were uncharacteristic of the older man, but McGee could tell he meant them, and averted his eyes toward his desk.

"We talked about that last night," he said softly, then looked back up at Gibbs. "You have no idea how happy I am that she's back, Boss."

Gibbs nodded again. He didn't have to respond to that. He knew.

Just then, the elevator opened and McGee smiled as he looked up and saw Ziva heading towards them, a tray with disposable cups in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. She met his eyes and returned his smile, heading straight to his desk.

"Good morning," she said, resisting the temptation to drop a kiss on his cheek. "I was not sure if you had eaten breakfast this morning, so I brought you some tea and a muffin." He made a face when she said tea and she explained herself. "Tea will be easier on your stomach than coffee, but I think the muffin will make up for it." Her eyes twinkled when she said that and McGee's expression turned curious as she handed him the bag.

He rustled the bag open and let out a low moan of pleasure as he saw what awaited him. "Double chocolate fudge," he muttered, knowing she must have caught him drooling over that particular flavor at their usual coffee shop.

Ziva grinned at his reaction and patted him on the shoulder. "I assume I was right about you not eating breakfast?"

He gave her a sheepish look. "I wanted to get here early."

Her patting turned into a swat. "You need to take better care of yourself. I will not always be around to do it for you." She gave him a pointed look, but was unable to keep the smile from her eyes.

McGee narrowed his eyes at her, as if challenging her. "And what did you eat for breakfast?"

"Nothing yet," she said lightly. "But in case you missed it," she snatched the bag from him, "there is another muffin in that bag, and it belongs to me." She pulled out the other muffin – which appeared to be banana nut – with a flourish and grinned at him.

"Ugh, healthy stuff," McGee said, though it was obvious he was just teasing her. He grinned at her. "Thanks, Ziva." She winked at him and finally walked to her desk, as McGee carefully unwrapped his muffin and started to eat it.

Gibbs had watched the whole exchange, noticing the new level of comfort between them, how it seemed they hadn't even noticed he was there. Their behavior wasn't terribly out of character from their usual, but he could sense whatever had happened at McGee's apartment the night before had changed things, and it seemed for the better.

"Good morning!" Tony's overly cheerful voice sounded then, and Gibbs noticed both McGee and Ziva tense slightly. His eyes narrowed. Maybe things weren't as easy as it looked. But he knew, if anyone could work through whatever was going on, it was his team.

His phone rang and he answered it, listened for a few moments, then hung up, grabbing his coffee as he stood up. "Grab your gear," he said, watching as the three younger agents began scrambling to collect their things. Tony wrapped an arm around McGee's shoulder as he passed by his desk on the way to the elevator, and Ziva fell in step beside them on McGee's other side. Ziva's hand brushed McGee's and they met each other's eyes, but just for a moment.

Gibbs sighed to himself. They had a lot of recovering to do yet, all of them. He hoped they'd be able to do it together, without anyone getting left in the cold.

He walked to the elevator.

**THE END**

_Thanks for reading, everyone! :)_


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